


The Price

by dustandroses



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: oz_magi, Drug Use, First Time, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beecher and O'Reily strike a bargain that ends up helping them both deal with the pressures of their first harsh year in Oz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmeri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeri/gifts).



> **Beta:** Ozsaur, my hero and shit  
>  **Notes:** Written for Callmeri for the LJ Community: Oz Magi 2008. Originally posted on January 2, 2009. 
> 
> **My prompts:  
>  Pairing:** Beecher/O'Reily  
>  **Prompt Phrase:** I'd do anything for you / Just you ask me and it's done / But everything has its price (Suicidal Tendencies)  
>  **Canon/AU/Either:** Canon  
>  **Special Requests:** A little smut would be awesome, but if you don't want to go there, just go wherever inspiration takes you. :)

 

Beecher watched the biker negotiate with Ryan, his head buzzing slightly from the couple of hits he'd already had - just a gentle floating sensation, like putting his mind on hold for a minute while he conferred with a consultant on the other line. He grinned at that and Ryan grinned back at him for a second before turning his attention back to the biker who frowned at both of them.  
  
The biker wasn't getting anywhere with Ryan and Beecher didn't wonder why: Ryan had already turned down the guy three times this month that Toby knew about. He was always waiting for money from his folks. The check was in the mail. Of course it was. But that didn't work for Ryan. He wanted his money up front, and he never gave anyone credit. Nothing was free with Ryan. Everything had a price.  
  
Ryan was back. "Hey Beecher. Here. Hold on to this for me, okay? I gotta take care of this, I'll be right back." He handed off the still smoldering joint to Toby, who immediately stuck the end in his mouth and inhaled deeply. Ryan turned back at the door and pointed his finger at Toby. "Don't smoke it all, Bogart."  
  
Toby snorted, blowing smoke out his nose. "Guess you'd better hurry back then."  
  
Ryan gave him the finger and took off, leaving Toby alone in the pod for the first time. It felt weird. He and Ryan had been getting high here for a while now, but he'd never been in the pod without Ryan there. He stubbed the joint out and sat down on Ryan's bunk, feeling awkward. The pod was an odd size and having so many bunks in it made it even stranger to Toby. He wished he could share a two-man pod with Ryan. That would be cool.  
  
Cool? Did he just think cool? He suddenly felt like he was in High School again. He could just see Ryan smoking in the bathroom between classes, selling the jocks joints out of his locker, giving wedgies in the locker room and getting into fights after school. And he could see himself, in his school uniform, captain of the Debate Team, getting wedgies in his own school locker room. They wouldn't have been friends, they would never have even met. Ryan would never have been accepted into an expensive private institution like Dwight Preparatory High School.  
  
Everything has its price. The thought floated back into his head, attached to nothing that Toby could think of. But suddenly it raised all sorts of thoughts and ideas none of which really made sense to him. What price am I paying?  
  
Ryan walked back into the room just then and Toby stood up. 'Hey, you're back. Everything okay?' He felt nervous all a sudden for no reason he could pin down, but awkward and gangly, like he was that 16 year old teenager he was just imagining a moment ago.  
  
He felt better when Ryan lit up the joint he took out of Toby's hand and realized Ryan was as cool and relaxed as usual. If Ryan wasn't acting any differently, there was no reason for him to. He stuffed his insecurities back in the box labeled High School Hell and slammed the lid shut, took a drag when it was offered to him, and slid down the wall to sit on the floor next to Ryan.  
  
Later that night, when Schillinger was through with him and had patted him on the ass before climbing back up to his own bunk, Toby curled up under the worn sheets and thin, scratchy blanket and shivered, thinking about freedom and prices and who paid them and when they came due. He wondered if there ever came a time when you'd paid enough.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby sat on the bunk, staring at the wall, the wad of paper sitting in his gut making his stomach turn. He grimaced, feeling just a bit more of his humanity slip away, and maybe some of his sanity with it. He wasn't feeling very sane at the moment. He wanted to rage against the injustice of it all, from the fact that the hacks had set Keane up as a gladiator for their amusement to Keane's rejection of his offer of help.  
  
But most of all he wanted to rage against his own cowardice. He didn't even try to fight Schillinger, not really. Even after all the time he'd spent studying those dusty law books and bitterly hating the fact that there seemed to be a never-ending supply of them, finish one and the next one was right there waiting for you to trip over it, he still had never had the urge to destroy one. To him, they _were_ the law. You didn't rip the pages out of one just because you could.  
  
But Schillinger had shoved those pages down his throat and he had taken them. The same way he took Schillinger's cock: down his throat, or up his ass, it was all the same. He did what he was told. Open wide. Be a good boy and swallow. Roll over and take it. And he did. What did that make him? Besides Schillinger's prag, that is? He used to have an identity apart from Vern Schillinger. Son, Brother, Husband, Father, Lawyer. He used to be somebody.  
  
Not anymore. There was nothing left. Nothing but Schillinger's Prag. And there was nothing left inside him with which to rage. He searched for it, a sense of heat, of fire, some sense of outrage against a horrible fate that no one should ever be forced to endure. But it wasn't there. There was nothing there. Nothing but a cold lump of paper sitting in his gut, paper and ink and Beecher's whole past life sitting there dissolving into pulp as his life faded away into nothing. Nothing left of him. Nothing left.  
  
The door to Toby's pod opened. He didn't even turn around to see who it was. It seems his sense of self-preservation had disappeared along with his pride. He recognized O'Reily's voice as he sat down behind Toby and started to talk. It didn't matter. Not much did.  
  
"Heard you talked to Keane even though I said don’t."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"That took some balls. Starting to grow some balls, Beecher?"  
  
The humorous tone told Toby that Ryan wasn't angry with him. That was good. At least his one source of relief from this horrible place wasn't going to cut him off. He realized he'd have missed Ryan if he'd pulled away from Toby over this. He liked Ryan's attitude. He didn't take shit from anyone. Good for him. Now Ryan? Ryan had balls.  
  
"I had balls a long, long time ago. And I thought I could get ‘em back by saving Jefferson Keane. But the lawyer in me got stretched out on the rack and hung by the neck until dead."  
  
Actually, now that he thought about it, there was one thing Toby could do that ole Vern didn't have any control over, one thing that pissed him off to no end, and right now that was a very good thing. Besides, it would take Toby's mind off his own amazingly ball-less state. Maybe give him a momentary escape from the miserable existence that was now his life. "You got any dope?"  
  
He could hear the grin in Ryan's voice as he spoke. For some reason, it sent a shiver down Toby's spine. "What you need, pal, is an upgrade. What you need is some heroin." Ryan's hand came up from behind him, over his shoulder.  
  
When he glanced over, he could see the white powder on the back of Ryan's hand. Sitting there, a clean, white temptation. Waiting for Toby like Ryan had always known it would come to this. Another step down the rabbit hole. No, more like a slide with no way to stop and no way of knowing what was at the bottom. Except relief. Relief from what his life had become. Prag. His whole existence summed up in one four-letter word.  
  
"Go ahead." Ryan's voice was low, smooth and Beecher took one last second to think about what he was about to do then he leaned down to Ryan's hand and sniffed. It was familiar, he'd done coke before, he knew what to do. But the feeling was different. Wow. Quite different. And there it was. That sense of relief. No, release. Better. Much better.  
  
It reminded him of how he felt when he hit the stretch on the outside, the point when he'd had just enough drinks to make everything recede into the background: the pressure of work with its constant concern of staying ahead of the next new, bright-young-thing fresh out of law school, the tensions of dealing with Gen's worry about keeping up with their friends - a new pool, the latest technological wonderstove, designer clothes, private schools, the pressure of never being enough for his father, never good enough or smart enough or fast enough.  
  
This was the feeling, when he hit his stride, when all the bullshit slipped behind the gin bottle and he couldn't see it, or hear it in his head, or if he did, it didn't seem to bother him any more. It was like welcoming an old friend home. Welcome back. I've missed you. He felt more than saw Ryan lick the residue off his own hand. Yeah. Good idea. Don't want to waste it. This is the good stuff. He was gonna need more of this.  
  
He wondered briefly why Ryan had been holding out on him. This was a thousand times better than just a joint. This was what he'd needed all along. His whole body felt heavy and languid, so he let himself fall back across the bed, landing with a thud next to Ryan's thigh. Toby stared up at him, as he tilted one eye critically in Toby's direction. Toby smiled. Yeah, this was the stuff. This and Ryan were all he needed to make it through this hellhole.  
  
He wondered briefly what Ryan really wanted from him, but he couldn't keep the thought in his head. He decided he'd worry about that later. Right now, he was just going to enjoy the moment. He'd earned it.  
  
Ryan grinned at him, "That's more like it."  
  
And Ryan was right. It was.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby glanced around carefully before entering Ryan's pod. There'd been a couple of bikers watching him earlier and he didn't want anyone knowing what he was up to. O'Reily glanced at him as Toby crossed over to him, then turned away, tucking something under the waistband of his pants before turning back in Toby's direction.  
  
  
"Hey Beecher. Bad timing, man. I'm outta here. Got to meet a guy about - well, you know - stuff. I'll be back in about an hour."  
  
"Damn. That's when Schillinger is due back. If I don't get high now, I won't get another chance tonight, Vern has something ‘special’ planned. He won't tell me what, but I know for sure I don't want to face it sober."  
  
Ryan reached into a pocket and pulled out a vial. "Here. There's only two or three hits left in it, will this do you?"  
  
Toby snatched it out of the air when O'Reily tossed it his direction. "You are a life saver, Ryan. Thanks. I'll figure out a way to pay you back for this. Maybe if I give my money to Sister Pete, I can keep it out of Schillinger's hands long enough to do something with it myself. I don't know. Since he found my last hiding place, I've been totally broke all the time."  
  
"Yeah, well, I don't know if the good Sister is the way to go. What do you tell her when you need to buy drugs? 'Sister, gimme some cash, I need a new pair of tits.'" Ryan grinned as he put one foot on his bunk to tie his shoe. "Yeah, that's gonna go over well."  
  
"Good point. But I don't know what else to do. It's not like I have anything else of market value. I could sell my clothes, but eventually someone would notice."  
  
They both got a snort of laughter out of that image. Ryan straightened up, and stepped away from the bunk. "I gotta go, Beecher. I know you've got plenty of marketable skills. We can work something out. Don't worry about it, okay?"  
  
Beecher thought about that as Ryan walked away, slowly following him back out to the tv area. He watched as Hanley met O'Reily at the gate and ushered him through, wondering briefly what he was up to. He was really better off not knowing, he realized after a moment. Toby knew _Ryan_ , the guy that got high with him and traded crazy stories about who'd fucked whom in high school and how much trouble they'd gotten into.  
  
But _O'Reily_ was someone different. He was dangerous and deadly, just like Oz, and although Toby felt comfortable and even a little bit safe around Ryan, he knew that O'Reily never let his guard down and he'd do whatever he had to do no matter the cost to anyone else. He was lucky to see the relaxed side of Ryan, but he knew he should never totally trust him. He'd seen what O'Reily was capable of. He shook his head as he headed up the stairs to his pod. What the hell did he have that Ryan O'Reily could possibly want? He didn't have anything left. There was nothing left of him at all.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby waited for Schillinger by the half-wall that separated the showers from the sinks, nervous over the group of Homeboys who were just finishing up their showers. They'd been laughing and joking about the hos they'd known, fucked or pimped out when they'd been on the outside, getting rowdier all the time, and Toby was getting worried. He'd seen the looks he was getting, and he'd been the butt of their pranks and jokes before. He was sure he'd be their next topic if Schillinger didn't show up soon.  
  
He would have felt better if he'd been wearing something besides a towel, although he didn't really know what good that would have done. There were only two types here in Oz, the victims and the victors, and he knew it wouldn't change his status to be wearing clothes, but it didn't stop the way he felt. A pair of pants would have been nice about now. As they begin to shut off their showerheads and turn his direction he changed his mind. He'd rather have a bazooka than a pair of pants.  
  
Toby thought about going back to the pod, but he and Schillinger had been interrupted as they were leaving for their "traditional" Sunday shower by a couple of members of the Brotherhood who'd needed to speak to Schillinger urgently. He'd sent Toby on to the shower and ordered him to wait there until Schillinger arrived.  
  
Schillinger seemed to get some kind of perverse thrill out of raping Toby in the showers every Sunday after Toby got back from chapel. He called it their “Sunday morning outing” and Toby hated being on display like that almost as much as he hated Schillinger, but he wasn't about to do anything to get Vern mad at him right now. He'd been really ugly recently and Toby was doing everything in his power to keep Schillinger from taking his aggressions out on Toby yet again. Especially since he hadn't done anything to deserve it this time. Well, at least nothing Schillinger knew about, Toby thought with a well-hidden smirk.  
  
So he wasn't about to leave the shower room despite the fact that he was about to be targeted by the Homeboys who were looking in his direction already. Adebisi was in the group and he had been a major problem for Toby ever since he'd foiled Adebisi's plan to prag him by moving in with Schillinger. He grinned wryly to himself; out of the frying pan into the fire, as the saying went.  
  
"What you smillin' at, prag? You see somthin' you like?"  
  
Toby looked up, startled. He'd made the ultimate mistake here in Oz: he'd not been paying attention to his surroundings, yet again. Adebisi was standing in front of him, towel in one hand as he stroked his half-hard cock with the other. He grinned at Toby as he slowly stepped forward, a sly, dangerous smile that threatened pain and suffering to anyone Adebisi singled out.  
  
"You wanna piece of me, whore? You want my cock in your mouth? Or maybe you'd rather take it up your ass."  
  
The rest of the homeboys egged him on, laughing and joking as they pulled on their clothes or wrapped their towels around their waists. Toby pressed his back against the cold cinder block wall, his bare flesh chilling into goose bumps as he realized there was no place to go. He was surrounded by three of Adebisi's boys and there was no hack to be seen, as usual.  
  
Adebisi dropped his towel to the floor, reached out and pinched one of Toby's nipples sharply, making him gasp. Adebisi let go of the cock he'd been stroking and shoved those fingers in Toby's mouth, pulling his bottom jaw down and opening his mouth wide. Toby hit his head against the wall trying to move away as he fought to close his jaws, but Adebisi was strong and his struggles didn't help as Adebisi ran the fingers of his other hand over Toby's tongue.  
  
"Mmmm. Nice mouth. I bet you're a good cocksucker, aren't you? Has Schillinger broken you in, right? I bet you can suck like a fifty dollar whore. You wanna suck my cock, whore?"  
  
Toby was shaking his head, afraid to fight, panicked, wondering where Schillinger was. Why wasn't he stopping this? He hated it, but at this point, he'd welcome Schillinger, no matter what the humiliation he planned to visit on Toby. It would be better than being gang-banged. And he was sure that was what was about to happen.  
  
Toby wondered if this was a set-up. Was Schillinger trying to get him raped? Did he want to get rid of Toby? Toby knew that Schillinger would never touch him again if Adebisi and his gang took him. In some ways that would be a relief, but he would be trading one man for another, or worse, being passed around by many. He'd never know a minute's peace if that happened. He held no delusions that he could protect himself against the hardened criminals of this place.  
  
Adebisi's smile was ugly, and Toby felt his stomach clench in fear as Adebisi pulled his fingers out of Toby's mouth and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him down. "On your knees, whore."  
  
"Get your filthy nigger hands off him." Toby looked frantically to the door, hating himself for the relief he felt when he saw Schillinger step into the shower room with half-a-dozen Aryans and bikers crowding in behind him. Adebisi looked over his shoulder, not letting go of Toby, and sneered at Schillinger as the homeboys crowded in to protect their leader.  
  
"What the hell you care about one little whore? There are plenty of whores out there, what's so special about this one? Huh?"  
  
Schillinger moved up a few more steps into the shower room, almost but not quite within reach of the homeboys. He should have looked ludicrous wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, but backed by six bruisers he didn't seem to notice the ridiculousness of his situation.  
  
"He may be a whore, but he's my whore, and I'm the only one who touches him. Now take your hands off my prag before my boys here have to hurt you."  
  
Adebisi surveyed the room. They were outnumbered and with at least two of his crew wearing towels it looked like he could tell the fight wouldn't come out in their favor. He rubbed his thumb across Toby's bottom lip, patted him on the cheek, then let go of his shoulder, turning and spreading out his empty hands, motioning to Toby with a sweep of his arm.  
  
"He's all yours, Schillinger. When you finally get tired of your whore, you send him my way. I bet I could make some good money pimping out that pretty little mouth of his." One of the homeboys handed Adebisi his towel and he wrapped it around his waist as Schillinger's men split down the middle giving the homeboys a clear path out the door.  
  
Just then two hacks showed up after the fact, as usual. Schillinger motioned for two of his boys to wait outside the door while the rest moved back into the quad, but stuck close enough to keep an eye on things just in case.  
  
Toby leaned up against the cold wall, shivering uncontrollably, his arms clenched around his body. He jerked away when Schillinger reached out a hand, but Schillinger just grabbed his jaw and looked into his eyes. "You're in shock. Get under the shower, that will warm you up." He pulled Toby over to the closest showerhead and turned on the water, then turned to toss both their towels on the half wall that divided the showers from the sinks.  
  
When the water was hot Toby stepped under it gratefully, feeling the warmth seep into his skin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get the feel of Adebisi's thumb off his bottom lip. He jerked in surprise when Schillinger grabbed his arm and pulled him around. Schillinger studied his face for a moment, frowning.  
  
"Where did he touch you?"  
  
Toby blinked. "What?" He could feel his heart still racing, and he hadn't stopped shivering yet; it was hard for him to concentrate on Schillinger's words.  
  
"Where did that nigger touch you? I want you to scrub yourself clean. Scrub hard. Wash every part of you he touched, and then wash it again. I don't want to touch you until you're clean again."  
  
Toby felt a sudden urge to laugh hysterically at that, but kept it in by sheer force of will. Now was not the time to argue with Schillinger. He took the washcloth and soap Schillinger handed him and started lathering up the cloth, concentrating hard to keep the laughter from bursting out. Schillinger had raped him continuously for months, but suddenly he was _unclean_?  
  
He washed himself vigorously, scrubbing the skin until it was red. Schillinger watched him closely and when Toby was though, Schillinger asked again. "Where did he touch you? Did you get everything?"  
  
Toby nodded, struggling to remember. "Yes. I think so. He grabbed me by the arms, then put his hands on my shoulders. Then my face. I'm pretty sure that's it."  
  
Schillinger didn't sound to happy with that. "Pretty sure?"  
  
"No.” Toby rushed to reasure him. “I'm sure. That's it. That's all I remember."  
  
Schillinger nodded. "Good. Now, up against the wall. I'm gonna make sure everyone sees that I own what Adebisi wants and is never gonna have. Did you lube yourself up? I'm gonna be pretty pissed if you end up bleeding again. I won't tolerate that Haitian bitch lecturing me on the proper way to fuck my own prag again - "  
  
Toby interrupted as politely as he could, knowing every time Schillinger got going on Dr. Nathan he got madder and madder until it was worse than if he'd not prepared himself at all. "No, I'm all set, sir. I'm ready."  
  
Schillinger shoved him against the wall. "Good. Spread your legs and shut the fuck up."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby sat in his pod and stared out at the quad below. He saw O'Reily circling the room like a shark, never stopping for too long, always on the move, like his very life depended on it. And maybe it did. O'Reily eyed Schibetta and his goons warily from time to time, and Toby wondered what that was about.  
  
He'd noticed it before, O'Reily going in to visit Schibetta, always dissatisfied when he came out, like he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted. Despite his cool demeanor, Toby could tell Ryan wasn't happy about how things were going. He was getting very tense these days, and it was all Toby could do to chill him out when they got high. And his brain, that brain never stopped working and Toby knew he never wanted to know what was going on in there. O'Reily could be ruthless when he needed to be.  
  
He wondered if that was what he could do for Ryan. He always seemed like he was in a better mood when Toby left him than he was when Toby showed up. Maybe his contribution was giving Ryan a chance to relax, to not have to be constantly on alert. He had nothing to fear from Toby, that was certain.  
  
Schillinger walked past Ryan, through Toby's line of sight and he shuddered, reminded of Schillinger's words. He threw the book in his hand across the room, watching dispassionately as it bounced off the wall, landing on the floor of the pod, its broken spine sticking up in the air like a wounded animal. That's right, O'Reily didn't have a thing to worry about from Toby. After all, he was just a prag, nothing but a whore. What could he possibly do to Ryan?  
  
He saw Schillinger heading up the stairs and got up to get his book out of the corner. He'd rather be standing when he faced Schillinger, he hated having to look up at that bastard. It made him feel like a child facing his father. Yes sir. No sir. I'll be glad to drop my pants for you, sir. Get down on my knees and suck you off? Of course, sir. Schillinger was a fucking sick, twisted animal, but Toby had no choice but to do as he said.  
  
"Anything you want, sir." He muttered as he picked up his book and dropped it on his bunk. Then he turned around to face Schillinger. When he saw Schillinger's angry face, his first instinct was to run or hide, but there was nowhere to go, was there? Nowhere safe, not in this whole stinking prison. He steeled himself for the coming storm, wondering what had happened and how Schillinger was planning of blaming it on him.  
  
Schillinger stormed into the room as Toby backed up against his bunk, instinctively getting as much room as he could between himself and the obviously incensed man in front of him. It happened so fast that Toby heard the crack of Schillinger's back hand across his face before he realized what was happening, before he even felt the blow that knocked him to the floor.  
  
Schillinger grabbed his shirtfront and pulled, dragging him back upright, pushing him against the bunk again and shaking him roughly. "You think I wouldn't find out? Is that it? You think you can get away with lying to me like that?" Toby struggled to stay upright, grabbing onto the only solid thing in front of him, Schillinger's arms.  
  
"No. What - " It was hard to think let alone talk, but he tried to sort out what Schillinger was saying. It made no sense to him at all.  
  
"Did you really think that nigger wouldn't brag about having his fingers in your mouth? He's down there telling everyone he can about how good your tongue felt when you sucked on his filthy fingers. You lied to me, you fucking whore."  
  
"I didn't! No! Sir, I forgot about that! I didn't suck on them, I tried to bite him, but he forced my jaw down. I swear, I didn't suck them. Sir, I didn't!' Toby was having trouble speaking with the way Schillinger kept shaking him, knocking him back against the bunk. But he tried his best to explain, suddenly terrified. He knew how angry Schillinger got when he thought Toby was lying to him, and he was furious right now. This was bad. Very bad.  
  
"You didn't remember? What do you think I am, a fool? How could you forget something like that? He had his fingers in your mouth!" Schillinger had stopped shaking him at least, but his grip in Toby's t-shirt was so tight that the neck had ripped and Schillinger had to adjust his grip to keep Toby close.  
  
Toby was trembling all over, but he forced himself to speak clearly, to make sure Schillinger understood everything he said. "I thought I was about to be gang raped. Adebisi holding my jaw open and sticking his finger in my mouth was a minor annoyance compared to what I was expecting to happen next. By the time you showed up I couldn't remember my name, let alone exactly what that bastard has done to me."  
  
Schillinger let him loose with one more shove back into the bunk. Toby's mind whirled. The thought that he'd have a huge bruise across his back in the morning came practically out of nowhere, but he brushed it away. "When you asked me, I honestly told you everything I could think of. I didn't remember he'd done that until you reminded me just now."  
  
He touched his aching jaw and discovered blood on his fingers. He staggered over to lean against the sink and wet down a washcloth to wipe the blood off his mouth and chin. Staring into the mirror Toby could see the discoloration already forming. Looked like his back wasn't the only thing that was going to be black and blue in the morning.  
  
He worked his jaw, trying to see if there was any more damage. It felt like it was just going to be sore; he wouldn't need to go to the infirmary. That was good. Schillinger hated it when he went to the infirmary. Speak of the devil, Schillinger appeared in the mirror behind him as he held the cold cloth against his sore jaw and split lip.  
  
"It doesn't matter." Schillinger's look was still dark.  
  
Toby sighed. He should have known that wouldn't be enough. He turned around to face Schillinger. He didn't like to have his back to the man while he was in this mood. Schillinger grabbed the cloth from Toby, rapping his knuckles against Tony's jaw as he did, causing him to yelp in surprise.  
  
Schillinger smirked at him, his eyes narrowing down in his pleasure at having someone on which to take out his anger. He reached around Toby to grab the soap off the sink, sticking the cloth under the cold water Toby had left running.  
  
"I'm not sticking my cock in there until we've scrubbed every trace of that nigger's fingers out of your mouth." He started lathering up the cloth, then snorted and tossed it into the sink. He grabbed onto Toby's bottom jaw, much the way Adebisi had, sending another jolt of pain through Toby's face and then Schillinger grinned. "Open wide, Bitcher." He shoved the bar of soap into Toby's mouth and started scrubbing.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby spit the toothpaste out, and loaded his brush up again. He could still taste the bitter soap on his tongue and this was his third attempt at scrubbing the taste out of his mouth. He straightened up when he heard the door open, looking around to see Schillinger walking towards him.  
  
"Who the hell said you could wash that soap out of your mouth? Spit that shit out right now before I decide you need another dose of bar soap."  
  
Toby turned and spit, rinsing his mouth out with his hand under the faucet, his stomach in turmoil. Did Schillinger have more plans for him? He'd thought confining him to the pod was a little lenient for Schillinger, but he wasn't about to complain when Vern headed out while Toby was still coughing up soap bubbles.  
  
He thought fast, grabbing the tube of toothpaste his mother had forced on him just last week. "Sorry, sir. It's antibacterial toothpaste. I thought it might be a good thing to do. In - in case I had any cuts in my mouth or anything." He trailed off at Schillinger's dark look and jumped when Vern grabbed the tube, examining it closely.  
  
"Antibacterial, huh?" He played with the word, his tone mocking Toby's pronunciation the way Schillinger did when he wanted to make fun of Toby's upbringing or schooling. He threw the paste at the sink and walked back to his bunk. "That's not a bad idea. But next time, you wait and ask me before you wipe away your punishment like that."  
  
Toby wasn't about to argue. "Sorry, sir. I didn't think about that. I was just concerned with making sure I was germ free. It won't happen again."  
  
"Damn straight it won't. Because you're not ever going to lie to me again, are you?  
  
"I promise, sir. I didn't mean to lie. I just didn't think about that. I swear."  
  
"Shut up. I've heard enough of your sniveling. Here." He threw a thin green and white box at Toby, who scrambled to catch it, confused by what he saw.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I want you cleaned out by the time they call count, so you use that now while I'm out of the room. Follow the instructions and make sure you do it right. I had to buy this shit off one of those damned faggots and you know they put me through the ringer over it, so you better not screw this up. If you do I'm gonna be even more pissed at you than I am now and you just do not fuckin' want that, you understand me?  
  
"And make sure you stretch yourself out real good, 'cause I'm not going to listen to that bitch tell me I can't put my hand wherever I want to put it. So you better make sure you're ready for me tonight, because this is one lesson you're never gonna forget."  
  
Schillinger was out of the room before he could do more than gasp, although what Toby would have said to that he had no idea. He felt a chill come over him, his hands cold and numb. He could plead and beg; Schillinger liked that kind of thing. But it seldom, if ever, had the desired effect. He was better off not even trying. Once he had something in his mind, there was no budging Vern Schillinger. And if he'd gone to all this trouble, he obviously had his mind set.  
  
Toby sat down heavily on his bunk as his last meal threatened to make a reappearance. He held it back with grim determination. Schillinger couldn't possibly mean what Toby thought he meant, could he? His numb fingers shook as he looked down at the box holding the enema kit, horror and revulsion running through him in waves. He tied to focus on the small print on the back of the box, but his eyes blurred and he blinked rapidly, trying to focus enough to read the instructions.  
  
How could he expect Toby to just calmly prepare himself for -- he couldn't say it, hell, he couldn't even _think_ it. But he had no doubt that Schillinger would think of something worse than even this if Toby failed to follow his orders. He fumbled the box open and let the contents slip until the plastic nozzle slid out enough to cause Toby to shudder helplessly, dropping the whole thing to the floor.  
  
He looked up at the loud laughter, muffled by the plexiglass, but not so much that he couldn't hear the chortled words Schillinger spoke, his eyes bright with malicious glee. "You might want to wash that before you use it, Sweetpea." He waved his fingers goodbye, then pulled them into a fist turning it this way and that, examining it from every angle before grinning at Toby and walking away  
  
Toby felt a sob fighting to break free from his chest, and it took all his effort to not let it go. He wouldn't give Schillinger that satisfaction. His rage swelled up inside of him. He wanted to kick the enema box across the room, or just put his foot down and crush it and its contents.  
  
But he couldn't. He knew that. He had no choice but to do what Schillinger wanted. Not doing it would be much, much worse; although how, he wasn't quite sure. But he knew Schillinger. He'd find a way, the bastard. He'd just have to deal with this the way he dealt with everything else Schillinger did to him. He'd survive. Somehow.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby slipped into the storage room and looked around. "O'Reily?" he called quietly. He didn't see Ryan, but that didn't mean anything. There was only one dim fluorescent flickering over the sink in the corner and there were shelves he could be hiding behind. Ryan stepped out from behind the farthest shelf and motioned Toby over.  
  
"Hey, over here. You sure nobody saw you?" At Toby's nod he grinned, his eyebrows wiggling comically as he waved a joint around like Groucho Marx' cigar. "Step into my office."  
  
Toby's grin was wry as he paraphrased one of his daughter's favorite poems. "Come into my office, said the spider to the fly." He glanced around at the shelves on either side of him and the cases of cleaning fluid stacked up for seating. "Cozy. Nobody comes in here?" It seemed awfully convenient to him, but he knew that O'Reily had been using this room for months now without ever being interrupted.  
  
"Nah, not on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Maid's days off." O'Reily joked as he settled down on one pile of cases. He motioned to the other. "Have a seat."  
  
Toby's grimaced as he shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll stand for now."  
  
O'Reily winced. "Oh, right. Sorry. I thought maybe you were okay, today. I mean, since you went in to work and all."  
  
Toby glanced down to the floor, flushed. Wasn't that funny? He could still blush after everything he'd been through since he'd arrived in Oz. He'd spent all of Monday in bed and he was better today, but still, it was difficult to sit for too long. The worst part for Toby was that everyone in Em City knew what had happened, even if they hadn't had a ringside seat for the live performance. 'Come one, come all! Enjoy the show. Make Toby's humiliation complete.'  
  
"Sorry man. I shouldn't have mentioned it." O'Reily fired up the joint and held it out to Beecher, who crossed the couple of feet to take it from him, drawing deeply and holding it in before he finally exhaled to continue their conversation.  
  
"Don't worry about it, O'Reily. I just hate to think about the fact that the entire prison knows by now. No wonder it was so easy to get away from the Sister this morning. The way she was looking at me, squirming at my desk. I should have known." He stared at the joint in his hand, then looked up with a laugh. "I think I'm gonna need something a bit stronger than this to get through the day."  
  
O'Reily nodded with a grin as Toby finally took a big hit off the joint. "Hey, don't worry, I got you covered. I just figured we got time to kill for once. We should take it slow. Relax a bit. Just you and me here, and we've got hours before lunch starts. We'll get there, don't you worry."  
  
Toby sighed, watching the smoke as it rolled out of his mouth. He liked the way pot smoke smelled. And it tasted different than cigarettes, too, the few times he'd tried them. Pot was definitely better. He leaned against the shelves, propping his arm on a box of household gloves.  
  
His voice was soft. "Thanks, Ryan. This is just what I needed today." He took another hit before handing it back to O'Reily, who smiled at him toothily. _Toothily_. Now that word was a real mouthful. He grinned at himself. A real mouthful. Jesus. He had the craziest thoughts when he was high. And he was only three hits down. Today was already looking up.  
  
They passed the joint back and forth in silence for a while. Toby could tell there was something going on in Ryan's head though, his leg was bouncing, jittering, the way it did when O'Reily had something big on his mind. But he obviously wasn't ready to talk about it, so Toby took advantage of the silence to try a little repressing. It wasn't going well. It was hard to get Sunday night out of his head, but damned if he wasn't going to try.  
  
Ryan caught him shuddering, and raised one eyebrow in question. He shrugged. "I'm working on my powers of repression."  
  
O'Reily grinned. "Oh, yeah? How's that going for you?" He grinned at Beecher then took a big hit off the joint, red sparking off the end as he flicked the ash onto the floor.  
  
Beecher frowned at his smart-ass comment, "Very funny, O'Reily."  
  
Ryan just snorted, smoke expelling from his nose, making him look like a fire breathing dragon or something. He stubbed out the roach and tucked it away. "Okay, your powers of repression could obviously use a little help." He pulled out a vial and passed it to Toby. "There you go, Beecher. Knock yourself out."  
  
"Oh yes. That's more like it." Toby took a hit and could tell the difference immediately. He felt a smile transform his face as the first flush of the drug crashed into his body. "Thanks, man. You just don't know how much I needed that." He finally lowered himself gingerly to the stacked cases of cleaning supplies, relaxing for the first time all day.  
  
Ryan grinned back at him. "I've got an idea just from the look of bliss on your face." O'Reily seemed to relax then as well and soon he was telling Toby about how inventively he'd cursed out Warden Glynn when he'd traipsed through Ryan's freshly mopped halls with about a dozen visitors following behind him like a school of tropical fish out of one of Ryan's travel brochures.  
  
Toby ended up giggling like a fool over the part where Glynn, in his shinny dress shoes, slipped and almost took out half of his sycophants in one fell swoop, his arms windmilling as he fought to stay upright. Giggling. It seemed so strange to do something like that in Oz, but in the safety of an unused storage closet, sharing tits with Ryan O'Reily it seemed okay to laugh. It felt freeing. Ryan had given him that. It was a gift he wasn't willing to give up. He'd find a way to pay Ryan back.  
  
It seemed only a few minutes later that they realized they'd need to leave in five or ten, and Beecher fought vainly to hang on to the remnants of the good mood he'd been in for the last couple of hours.  
  
Ryan handed him the almost empty vial. "Here, Beecher, finish this off before you leave."  
  
Beecher looked at him, surprised. "What? I thought you said that was it until tomorrow. That's your last hit, O'Reily. I can't take that." He put the vial on the case stack Ryan was sitting on, and smiled at him. "I'm okay. Really."  
  
"Nah, Beecher, that hit is for you. You don't wanna go back to work squirming in your seat, do you? You need it more than I do at the moment."  
  
Toby frowned. He refused to think of himself as a victim today and O'Reily's obviously solicitous behavior was pissing him off. He thought that O'Reily would take the hint, but he kept pressing it on him, albeit in a rather unique manner. He couldn't help but laugh when Ryan picked up a streetwise hoodlum's thick accent and over the top mannerisms as he treated Beecher like a reluctant kid on the playground he was talking into trying out his wares.  
  
"C'mon man - you'll like it, I promise. All the kids are doin' it. Just one hit, and you'll be just like all the cool kids. You know you wanna - and it don't hurt, it makes you feel like you're flying, man. It can give you anything you want." Gradually, Ryan gave up the street punk, the transition slowly wiping the smile from Beecher's face as he listened to Ryan's half-joking monologue. "You can be anything you want when you got tits in your hands. Anywhere you wanna go, you can go. You can be _free_. It's all up to you, man - you and this pretty white powder."  
  
Ryan dumped the powder on his own hand, the way he'd done the first time Beecher had tried heroin just a couple of weeks ago and he pushed closer until he was right next to Toby, Ryan's chest lightly touching his arm as he leaned in to whisper in Toby's ear.  
  
"This is the stuff, Beecher, and I saved it just for you. Go on. Take it. You know you want to." Toby shivered at the warm air blowing over his ear from Ryan's words. He hadn't taken his eyes off the powder on Ryan's hand since he poured the last of the vial there. He wondered why Ryan was doing this. It seemed like a selfless act, he knew Toby was suffering and he wanted to do something for him to ease his way. But that was just not the way O'Reily operated, was it? He didn't have an altruistic bone in his body and Toby knew that.  
  
But the white powder was calling him and today he just didn't have it in him to fight it. Why should he? He needed it and it was there. Toby leaned over and sniffed the powder up his nose and immediately, he felt better for having done it. It always hit him like that. Sort of a 'oh yeah, that's why I keep doing this' moment. He smiled. That was nice.  
  
Ryan's hand was still there in front of him and he noticed the residue on the fleshy part where the powder had rested. Without thinking about it, Toby stuck out his tongue and swiped along the trail to lick it up. Ryan pulled his hand back with a jerk, but Toby caught his wrist.  
  
"Wait. I missed some." He licked Ryan's hand again, making sure he got all the residue this time, the bitter tang sharp on his tongue. He let go of Ryan's hand, but it stayed there for a moment. Toby looked over at Ryan who was staring at him wide-eyed, a look of surprise, or maybe it was shock, on his face. Toby couldn't really tell which. With Ryan so close to him like this it was hard to focus on more than a a single facial feature at a time.  
  
He concentrated on Ryan's mouth because his tongue came out just then and licked his obviously dry lips, leaving a slick trail of moisture behind. Toby repeated the move on his own lips - monkey see, monkey do. Ryan blinked and jerked away, his hand going down to his pant leg to wipe along the seam.  
  
"Gross, Beecher. What'd you do that for?" He looked down frowning and wiped his hand across his shirt this time.  
  
"Relax, O'Reily. It's not like I have cooties or something. It just seemed a shame to waste it, you know?" Ryan was weird sometimes; he'd come to expect that, so it didn't throw him. The strangest things freaked him out. His grin spread. He was actually looking forward to getting back to his desk and getting some work done. He thought he could actually sit still enough to get something accomplished, now.  
  
"I wonder what they have for lunch? I'm starved."  
  
O'Reily smiled at that. "It's hotdogs and tatter tots today. C'mon, I'm getting hungry, too. You go first. I'll follow in a few minutes. That will give me time to get the ashes off the floor, straighten up a bit. When I'm through, they'll never know we were here."  
  
Toby checked the hallway, but paused before leaving the room. "O'Reily?" Ryan poked his head out from behind the shelf of supplies, curious. "That was slick. That whole jive thing you had going on there."  
  
Ryan grinned at him. "Liked that did you? I'm a little rusty, but I think I've still got it."  
  
Toby nodded. "Oh yeah. That was frighteningly effective." He pointed a finger at O'Reily in warning. "I just want you to know, if you ever show up at my children's playground, I'm gonna kill you on sight."  
  
Ryan burst out laughing. "I consider that a compliment, Beecher."  
  
Grinning, Toby slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind him. "Mmmm - tater tots."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
O'Reily was staring at him again. He had been for a couple of days now and it was beginning to creep Toby out. Because it wasn't just any part of Toby he was staring at, it was his mouth. He licked his lips again, a nervous habit, one he'd never been able to break himself of, and shivered when Ryan's eyes focused on his tongue. When his eyes rose finally to Toby's, Ryan blushed and looked away. Something strange was definitely going on.  
  
He took another hit off the joint they'd been sharing and handed it back to O'Reily, who concentrated on the smoke trailing off the end of the joint, while Toby took his time studying Ryan for a change. There was something up with O'Reily, but he couldn't figure out what and thinking about the way Ryan had watched him eat lunch yesterday wasn't helping. It just made him squirm for some reason. What was so fascinating about hotdogs and tater tots?  
  
He hoped that whatever was going on in O'Reily's mind wasn't going to change things between them. He appreciated his time with Ryan, it was pretty much the only time he didn't feel the need to be on guard against the bullshit forced on him here in Oz. And now that Sister Pete had agreed to let him spend an hour before lunch 'in the library' every day he really hoped Ryan wasn't about to blow his safe haven out of the water. But he knew something was up and it was making him nervous.  
  
With the way Schillinger was escalating the public humiliation and degradation he heaped on Toby every day, he didn't need something new to worry about. He dreaded the day Schillinger had had enough of him. He didn't know if Schillinger would just kick him out, or want to pass him along to some other Aryan, but either way it tore his stomach up thinking about the ways things could move from bad to worse.  
  
At least with Schillinger he knew where he stood. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else right now. He needed some stability and, strangely enough, Ryan O'Reily was the one offering it. Well, that, along with a great dose of oblivion. He needed the time to talk and joke or just sit in companionable silence, but he also needed the buzz. And Ryan was his supplier of the best high he'd had in a long time and a way to wipe away the horror of the Oswald Correctional Facility. He needed this. And that meant he needed O'Reily.  
  
He glanced up to find O'Reily's gaze pinned on him yet again, but before he could say anything, Ryan spoke up. "I've figured out a way to help you deal with Schillinger, Beecher. I mean, it's not perfect, it's not gonna get you away from him, but it might give you a different perspective on him and help you deal with his crap easier."  
  
Ryan's face was carefully neutral, not giving Toby any clue as to what was going on in his mind. "What are you talking about, O'Reily?"  
  
O'Reily smiled that crooked grin of his and stood up, crossing the few feet to Toby to lean on the same shelf Toby was using to prop himself up. His tone of voice was low and seductive and his eyes were intense, staring right into Toby's.  
  
"You need to be your own man again, Beecher. You need to remind yourself that whether Schillinger knows it or not, you've got balls. You can't openly defy Schillinger, but he doesn't have to know. _You'll_ know. You'll have a secret that spoils his perfect little world. That makes him less in your eyes. A secret that helps you live with his crap without falling apart."  
  
He moved away then and started to pace as he spoke, his intense energy tightly controlled but still showing in his eyes and his abrupt movements in the small space. "See, I was thinking about you last night, Beecher, when I was in my bunk. Actually, I was thinking about Schillinger." He paused long enough to glance over at Beecher, then grinned, quicksilver fast. "Yeah, I know. But listen.  
  
"I was thinking about the way Vern bragged that he had you so trained that you'd never let anyone else touch you. That you'd always belong to him, even after he got tired of you and threw you away. I realized that what you need to survive Schillinger is to find a way to make your own decisions. To choose for yourself who touches you and who you touch."  
  
O'Reily stopped in front of Toby again, staring into his eyes and almost convincing him that anything was possible. "If there were someone you knew you could trust, someone you knew would never tell. You could look ole Vern right in the eye and know you're not the hopeless prag Schillinger thinks you are. You could stand tall again, Beecher, and believe in yourself because you know he's nothing but a fool. You have the power to make your own choices no matter what he thinks."  
  
The idea slowly took hold in Beecher's imagination. "A cuckold. And he'd never know."  
  
"Yeah, whatever." Ryan leaned against the shelf again, even closer than before. "It could work, Beecher, you know it could." Beecher could tell that O'Reily had no idea what a cuckold was, but he didn't try and explain. His mind was too full to try and sort out an explanation right now. He wanted this. He needed something, anything at this point. And it could be the perfect solution if he could find the right person. But who the hell would have the balls to defy Schillinger with him?  
  
"No. It won't work, Ryan. There's no one I could trust to keep that kind of a secret from Schillinger. In the end, the ones who'd keep the secret would be far too frightened of Schillinger to actually let me get that close. Who would be brave enough to do it and still keep a secret? No one."  
  
"Oh yeah, there's one person, Beecher. You can trust him because he already holds your secrets and you know he'd never tell. The one person who already holds your secrets in his hand."  
  
O'Reily opened up his hand to reveal a vial lying on his palm. Toby stared at the vial, then looked up at O'Reily, shocked. Toby couldn't read O'Reily's face. As usual the mask he wore was in place, but his eyes burned into Toby's and he realized with surprise that this wasn't just for Toby. Ryan wanted this. He wanted it for himself.  
  
"I'm never going to say anything, you know that Beecher." Ryan's voice was low and persuasive, and his gaze was suddenly too intense, Toby had to look away. He found his eyes on the vial in O'Reily's palm as he listened to those seductive words. "You know you can trust me. I'm the only one you can truly trust.  
  
"And this way, you kill two birds with one stone, right? You defy Schillinger and pay me back for the buzz." That got Toby's attention, and he looked back at Ryan as suddenly it all came together in his mind. Suddenly it all made sense - O'Reily's price. "I'm only human, Beecher. I'm a man with needs that are never going to be met in this shit hole. I'm here for one fuck of a long time with nothing to keep me company but my own hand. This way you get the tits, I get relief, and we both screw Schillinger. It's perfect, Beecher. It's just fuckin' perfect.  
  
"When Schillinger's fucking you and telling you that he's never going to let anyone else touch you, you can laugh to yourself because you'll know that you just sucked my cock and Schillinger's perfect little prag doesn't belong to him at all. You'll know that you're stronger than he is. Every time you swallow my come it will remind you that Schillinger may think he owns you, but you make your own decisions, and you choose to defy him."  
  
O'Reily stepped closer, so close that Beecher could feel Ryan's breath on his own skin, just like he could feel the seductive power of O'Reily's charm pulling him in, telling him that this was what he wanted. And the crazy thing was, he wasn't so sure that it wasn't just exactly what he needed. Toby closed his eyes, hoping it would be easier to think if he wasn't staring into Ryan's eyes, but in the dark behind his eyelids, O'Reily's voice became even more enticing as Toby focused on his softly spoken words.  
  
"You want this Beecher. You want it as much as I do. You want to laugh behind his back when he brags about who you belong to. You'll know you only belong to yourself. You and me, we'll both know who's really got the power."  
  
He felt something touch his chest and his eyes flew open. Ryan's hand was there between their bodies with the perfect little vial that held the promise of relief and forgetfulness and maybe even a way to get back at Schillinger without committing suicide by openly defying the bastard.  
  
"C'mon Beecher. You know this is the only way to get back at him. To get your revenge. You know you're going to do this. So just do it. Take it, Beecher. Take your revenge."  
  
Toby reached out and touched the vial in Ryan's palm, his fingers running along the length of it, the glass warm from Ryan's hand and smooth to the touch. He watched his hand like it belonged to a stranger. And it did. It belonged to someone he'd never known before his first day here in Oz. He'd had no idea and now it seemed he had no choice. But that wasn't true, was it? He could make this choice.  
  
He could choose to relieve the horror of this hellhole and get revenge on Schillinger at the same time. And all he had to do was keep O'Reily happy. And why not? O'Reily was the one who made his life here even the least bit tolerable. Why not do for him what he was already being forced to do for Schillinger? At least with Ryan he'd know it was his decision, not something forced on him by that Aryan bastard.  
  
His fingers closed around the vial and he held it up to his nose, taking a deep sniff, closing his eyes as the oblivion set in and white-washed all his problems, covered everything and left him feeling free. Freedom, now there's a concept.  
  
"That's it, Beecher. That's good." O'Reily plucked the vial out of his hands and took a hit before tucking it in Beecher's pants pocket. "Here, put this away before you loose it." He leaned close, close enough that Beecher could feel the cloth of Ryan's shirt against his arm. His voice was low, just a whisper.  
  
"I was thinking about you in my bunk, Beecher. Schillinger just wouldn't shut up about you the other night, how good you were at sucking cock. All I could think of last night was the way your tongue felt on my hand that day, hot and wet and - well, it felt like sex." Ryan's whispered words buzzed in Toby's head, and his head fell back as he took a long, deep breath to try and clear it. It didn't work. He could almost feel Ryan's words brushing up against him like velvet, thick and lush and warm against his skin.  
  
"All I could think of was your tongue licking my cock, your hot mouth wrapped around my balls. I got so turned on just thinking about the way you always lick your lips. I could almost feel those wet lips wrapped around the head of my cock, sucking, flicking your tongue against it, driving me wild. I came all over myself last night, came harder than I have since I've been here, all from thinking about your lips and that wicked lawyer's tongue."  
  
Ryan was pressed firmly up against Toby now and Toby twisted slightly so he could look directly into O'Reily's eyes. The movement brought more of their bodies into contact and Beecher found himself leaning into the touch. It felt so good to press up close against that hard, wiry strength.  
  
But the words Ryan was saying, those were the best things of all. Ryan wanted *him*. He'd had other choices and he'd refused them all, but he couldn't stop thinking about Toby. He needed Toby the way Toby needed Ryan and that was exhilarating. That knowledge was as powerful a rush as the one he got out of a vial. It pulled at him the same way the heroin did, pulled him closer and closer to the heat in Ryan's eyes.  
  
"It wasn't enough, Beecher. My own hand just doesn't do it anymore. I need the real thing. I need touch, someone else's hand on my cock. Will you touch me, Toby? I need you to touch me."  
  
O'Reily reached out and ran his hand slowly down the outside of Toby's arm stopping at his wrist. He lifted up Toby's hand and placed it on his own shoulder. "Touch me, Toby."  
  
So Toby did. He felt disconnected from his own body which he thought was strange since he could feel the muscles and bones of Ryan's shoulder so clearly. He watched as his hand moved slowly down Ryan's chest. Ryan took a quick breath when he ran his palm across one hard nipple so Toby went back for more. He moved his fingertips across the nub, tracing the areole lightly before taking the nipple in his fingers and twisting it lightly.  
  
Ryan's chest rose as he took in a shuddering breath and Toby looked up to see Ryan's face flushed and his lip caught in his teeth. The pupils of his eyes were blown, dilated and intensely focused on Toby, who realized suddenly that all this time he'd been uncomfortable with Ryan's intensity focused on him because he hadn't realized the reason for it. Now that he knew, he felt a rush of pride.  
  
He smiled slowly and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, watching Ryan's eyes avidly follow the course of his tongue. He could throw Ryan O'Reily totally off his game just by licking his lips. Now that was power. He let his hand slide down Ryan's abs until it rested on the waistband of his pants. He knew he could do this, but he was still a little nervous about actually touching someone voluntarily.  
  
Ryan took a deep breath. "Go on. Touch me, Beecher. Gimme your hand."  
  
He took Toby's wrist and placed his palm on his cock. Beecher could feel it right through the material of his pants. It was half hard already and that surprised him. He jerked away a little, but Ryan held his hand firmly, rubbing lightly. Toby swayed slightly and his hand closed of its own accord, grasping Ryan's cock and squeezing gently. Ryan gasped and his eyes closed briefly, like a slow blink. "That's it, Toby. That's it."  
  
O'Reily pushed his hips forward into Toby's grip, his voice deeper and more demanding, but still seductive and just a little breathless. "Feels good." He fumbled with his own belt and Toby pulled back as Ryan unzipped his pants. The pants slid down easily, his hips too narrow to keep them up, and Toby ran his fingers over the bulge in Ryan's boxers, running rings around the tip, but still a little shy about pulling them down. Ryan's cock jumped in his hand and Toby jerked a little in surprise.  
  
Ryan just pushed his boxers off, pulling the cloth over the head of his cock carefully before letting them fall to the floor to join his pants. "I want to feel you, Beecher. Skin on skin."  
  
So Toby took Ryan's cock in his hand and ran his fingers along the length. Ryan's eyes closed and he sighed, "Oh yeah, that's it." His hips gave an aborted thrust and Toby closed his hand around his cock and started stroking him in time with Ryan's breathing which was getting louder as his cock got harder. It felt funny holding O'Reily's cock like this. Schillinger always wanted to be sucked, so he'd never done anything like this before.  
  
The skin felt dry in his hand and he wondered if he could find some hand lotion or something to use as a lubricant. He supposed he could just spit in his hand. It wasn't good, as lubricants go, but it had worked when he was a kid. He never had this problem with Schillinger, saliva worked better when you used your whole mouth. Obviously Ryan was thinking the same thing because when he looked up Ryan was staring at his mouth again, licking his own lips. The heat in Ryan's eyes made him shiver because he knew what O'Reily wanted.  
  
Beecher took a deep breath, let the last of his reservations go, and fell. He knew he'd hit hard, but his knees weren't complaining at the moment, so he pushed it aside. He'd worry about that later. Right now he had something to do. He took Ryan's cock in his hand. He looked up as Ryan's breathing deepened again.  
  
"That's it, Beecher. Suck me."  
  
Toby stared at Ryan's cock for a moment. It looked strange to his eyes, thinner than Schillinger's and the head wasn't as big, but it was as long or maybe even longer and there was a drop of clear fluid gathering on the slit. He wondered what Ryan tasted like. Would he be bitter and yeasty like Schillinger? He didn't smell like Schillinger, but he didn't have enough experience to know if that made a difference or not.  
  
He leaned forward and licked the tip to taste the precome, holding the shaft in his hand. He jumped when Ryan moaned loudly. He'd practically forgotten there was a person attached to this piece of flesh until he was reminded by O'Reily's tortured voice.  
  
"Beecher. You're killing me here, man. Do something. _Please_."  
  
Toby smiled to himself as he ducked his head and sucked softly on the very tip, running his tongue across the slit. Ryan's gasp and the way he grabbed Toby's head were all the evidence he needed that he was doing this right. And he wanted to do this right. When it was Schillinger he was giving head to, he did what he had to do to avoid punishment or a lecture of some sort, but right now he had a point to prove. He could do this. He could offer Ryan something he couldn't get elsewhere.  
  
He could offer Ryan something he'd never go elsewhere to get. Although he hadn't said it, implicit in the words he'd told Toby was the fact that not only could he trust Ryan, but Ryan knew he could trust Toby as well. He'd never trust anyone else with this. Toby knew he'd had offers; he'd turned them all down, claiming he was no fag. He trusted Toby. That was a privilege, a trust he didn't intend to break  
  
Toby took his time, laving the crown with his tongue, running the tip around the rim and flicking it over the bundle of nerves just under the head, making Ryan gasp and his fingers tighten in Toby's hair. He ran his tongue along the thick vein on the bottom of the shaft, licking up and down several times before slipping his lips over the top again and taking in about half of Ryan's cock, fisting the bottom half, twisting his hand like he was unscrewing the lid on a jar.  
  
He could hear Ryan's breathing getting faster as he moved his mouth up and down over the top half, creating as much suction as he could and using his tongue to swipe the underside as he moved up and down. Toby lost himself in the motions. After months of doing this to Schillinger he was used to it, he could practically blow Vern in his sleep. It wasn't that he liked doing it, but it was familiar and he found himself thinking about the things he usually avoided by concentrating on the mechanics of what he was doing.  
  
Ryan's taste was different. Still metallic and somewhat bitter, but his precome didn't have that yeasty taste that usually turned Toby's stomach. And his cock was thinner so it didn't stretch his mouth as much. It was a little longer, though, so it hit the back of his throat faster than Vern's did, but he bet it would be easier to deep throat and that would be nice. It felt hot and slick in his mouth and he found himself enjoying the feel and the taste.  
  
He reached up and cradled Ryan's balls in his free hand. Soft and lightly furred, they were heavy and warm in his hand. He rolled them, squeezing gently and Ryan's hands clenched in his hair. They didn't pull or anything, it was sort of like getting a scalp massage, Ryan's fingers just couldn't seem to stay still. It was like he was petting Toby. That amused him. What did Ryan think he was, some sort of cat? His amusement made him hum around the cock in his mouth, making Ryan moan, his balls drawing up close to his body.  
  
Right, time to get busy. He could hear O'Reily speaking softly, but he really couldn't understand what he was saying. He only caught a word here and there. Things like "so good" and "wet and hot" and something about his "golden lawyer's tongue." He heard Ryan say his wife's name at one point, but he couldn't tell if he was saying Toby was as good as Shannon, or if Shannon did it better, and he found that he really didn't want to know. So he concentrated on what he was doing again and ignored Ryan's words.  
  
He glanced up at Ryan's face expecting to find his eyes closed or his head thrown back, but Ryan was watching Toby, his gaze fixed on Toby's mouth, watching as his cock slid in and out of Toby's swollen lips. Toby would have grinned if he hadn't had his mouth full because he knew how to make O'Reily lose his cool. He took a deep breath and relaxed his throat, shifting his position enough to slip Ryan's cock back and pop the head past the resistance at the opening of Toby's throat.  
  
Toby heard Ryan gasp, but he had closed his eyes to concentrate. Even after all this time, it still took an effort to force a man's cock down his throat. But he'd been right, Ryan's cock went down easier than Schillinger's, and he swallowed three or four times in a row to celebrate that fact. Ryan's hands clenched tightly in his hair as he cried out and Toby's eyes shot open as he watched Ryan gasp loudly before getting himself enough under control to muffle his shouts against his arm.  
  
Toby felt Ryan's balls tighten in his hand, so he pulled back long enough to take another deep breath, then he went back down on Ryan's cock, swallowing as fast as he could, hoping this would be enough to set him off. Ryan grabbed Toby's skull and shoved his cock as far down Toby's throat as it would go, thrusting in and out two or three times and then he just held him there, pressing Toby's face against his skin, his curly hairs tickling Toby's nose. Toby felt his cock swell one last time and then Ryan came, curled over Toby's head, holding him close and gasping hard enough that Toby could feel the breath on the back of his neck.  
  
Toby didn't try to pull away, he was too well trained. Vern would never put up with that kind of behavior. He was starting to see stars in the corners of his eyes when Ryan eased back and Toby pulled off far enough to gasp for breath through his nose while sucking very gently on Ryan's cock, cleaning it off with his tongue. Ryan's come tasted different, too, although why that surprised him he didn't really know. He let Ryan's cock slowly slip out of his mouth as he pulled up Ryan's jeans and underwear. He fought to get his breath back and smiled to himself as he listened to Ryan cursing under his breath.  
  
"Goddam, Beecher. That was - damn. Shannon should take lessons from you, man." Ryan staggered back to the stack of cases he'd been sitting on earlier and collapsed on them, knocking several rolls of toilet paper off the shelf behind him when he leaned heavily against them. "Shit! Maybe there's something to that whole thing about guys knowing what guys like, you know? Cause Shannon, she's a fast learner and all, but she just doesn't get it. Not like you do. That was something else, man."  
  
He laughed, raking his hand through his hair. "Next time? I need to be sitting down first, okay?" He glanced at his watch, wincing as he saw the time. "Damn. I wonder if I've got time for a nap."  
  
The incongruity of the whole thing hit Toby then and he started to laugh. Ryan looked up at him, surprised. Then he grinned sheepishly. "I can't help it. I get off intense like that and I need recovery time, man. It's just a fact of life."  
  
Toby shocked himself with his own laughter. He clamped a hand over his mouth to try and hold it in, but it was difficult. It just seemed to well up from nowhere, full and cheerful, and it felt good. Ryan joined him and they laughed while Ryan lit up another joint, sniggering around the smoke. And they just couldn't stop. They'd calm down for a while, then out of nowhere, they'd break out into laughter again, making each other snort smoke out their noses and their eyes water.  
  
Toby felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He had an ally. Someone he could trust with his secrets. And he had secrets to share, secrets that belonged to just him. And he got to decide with whom he shared them. It felt good. It felt right. It was the beginning of something new and who knew where it would lead or what would happen next, but that was okay. He was ready for that future now.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Some lines between Beecher and O'Reily (the "What you need, pal, is an upgrade" scene) were taken from Season One, Episode Four: _Capital P_ , written by Tom Fontana.


End file.
